


Like a Bolt from the Blue

by Mytay



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: And then they are amazing fighters together, Keith is blown away, Lance is an amazing fighter, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-21
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-26 00:10:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9853094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mytay/pseuds/Mytay
Summary: Keith has a near-death experience, but he’s actually pretty okay afterwards — he considers it all part of the Paladin calling. Lance, on the other hand, is wrecked by it, and so he trains his butt off to ensure that Keith will never die on his watch.Or, as I originally posted on my Tumblr:Keith unintentionally spies on Lance in the training room ...… where the Blue Paladin is kicking ass. And Keith’s kind of mesmerized by it. Then he’s more than mesmerized — he’s freaking out because he’s actually kinda sorta into this brutally efficient soldier version of Lance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I had a blast writing this on Tumblr ([ five separate parts ](http://thisgirlhastales.tumblr.com/post/157476356678/keith-unintentionally-spies-on-lance-in-the)spread out over four days or so, and completely unplanned, which was a rather cool experience). Here it is, all together as a one-shot, with a bonus epilogue/coda :)

******

 

Keith rubs his sore neck and considers whether or not it's worth putting in his usual two hours on the training deck. He’d only just got out of the healing pod that morning, and then spent the rest of the day sleeping in a very uncomfortable position on his bed.

 

Really, if he misses out on  _one day_ of training would it be so … And his obsessive nature rears its ugly head, roaring at him  _no, stop, go because if you slip up, you will feel guilty for days, I’ll make sure of it._

 

So he stops lingering outside and walks in, already mentally picking out which program he wanted to — except a program is already running. One of his custom battle simulations — he can tell because of the fortified positions the gladiators are taking. He tenses, but unless he's introduced as a combatant, the robot gladiators will not attack him.

 

Unlike Lance.

 

Lance, who is sliding into cover, and then emerging to fire three precise shots, and taking down exactly three robots.

 

Keith stands off to the side, watching with amazement as Lance takes on an incredibly difficult combat scenario designed by Keith. It forced him to use ranged weapons, since he couldn’t always rely on close combat (though he usually ended up rushing the last few gladiators with his sword and shield). The goal of the program wasn’t to eliminate all combatants, but to reach a specific point behind enemy lines.

 

And Lance is doing it. 

 

He's pushing forward even as the second phase of the battle sim kicked in, introducing reinforcements. Lance doesn’t have his helmet on, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, and whenever he emerges from cover, he always hits what he aims at — and in the _exact same spot._

 

Each gladiator goes down to _a headshot._

 

Every single one.

 

Keith is not only impressed, but also vaguely alarmed. He has  _never_ seen Lance be this vicious in battle. This relentless. This _merciless._ But his dark blue eyes are narrowed, focused, and his mouth set in a grim line. Except when his shots hit. Then Keith can see a slight smirk lifting the corner of his mouth. 

 

For reasons unknown to the Red Paladin … he starts to sweat. Keith isn’t even _doing_ anything other than standing there, slack-jawed, yet warmth blossoms on his skin, moisture collects at his temples. _What_ the  _hell_ is happening?

 

By the time Lance gets to the final staging area, Keith is holding his breath. He has no idea how long it’s been (it normally takes him between twenty to thirty minutes to complete this battle simulation himself). But Lance has been powerfully fast, and, even though his chest is heaving, seemingly indefatigable.

 

At first, Keith thinks the heat spreading throughout his body is in empathy to seeing Lance so sweaty and dishevelled. But a snarky, rather Blue Paladin–sounding voice is informing him that, _Dude, you are deluding yourself right now, and it’s kinda sad. You know what this is._ And what really sucks is that Keith can’t deny it with the evidence right in front of him. 

 

Lance is at the penultimate set of barriers. The reason why Keith usually starts charging with his sword at this point is because, soon enough, the gladiators will do the same — and that is exactly what starts to happen.

 

But Lance, Lance manages to fire off three more shots, taking down three more gladiators, before he vaults himself over his cover and proceeds to  _beat the crap out of the robots with his rifle._

 

Keith’s mouth is now hanging open far down enough to probably hit his knees.

 

Lance isn’t bad when they’re out fighting the good fight. He’s quick, he’s a good shot, and when he’s not bragging about it, he’s a fairly decent pilot. Keith has even said these things out loud to the Blue Paladin, which somehow made Lance even more annoying — now he tries to goad Keith into saying them  _all the time,_ and if Keith didn’t  _like_ him so much, it would …

 

 _Ah, there it is._ The snarky voice in his head sounds satisfied, and that is definitely Lance’s tone that his brain has chosen to use. Keith is so a goner.

 

The point he was trying to reason out in his head ( _not the stupid crush thing, let that go for now, freak out later_ ) was that Lance had never really had the opportunity to do something like  _this_  — not when Keith and Shiro were the upfront fighters, with Pidge, Hunk, and Lance performing range and support roles. It worked best that way. 

 

(Except yesterday, when Keith hadn’t seen the Galra soldier creeping up on him until it was too late — until the sword stabbed into his back, aiming for his heart, but _just_ missing.)

 

Lance smashes one gladiator in the face, bringing it down and stomping it into submission while he raises his rife and fires at two more. Then he ducks under the electrified baton of another that got too close — Keith hisses at the near miss, at the sinuous way Lance avoids the hit and manages to bring his weapon up again, shooting rapidly.

 

The Blue Paladin makes it to the finish line by rolling beneath and between several robot gladiators. He’s there, kneeling with his rifle up, gasping for air, when everything powers down and the Castle’s computer announces, “ _Simulation complete. Final time sixteen doboshes and forty-two ticks.”_

 

Lance had beaten Keith’s best time by nearly four minutes.  _“Holy crap.”_  

 

While he’d said it very quietly, he had also spoken into silence, so his voice carries, almost painfully loud.

 

Lance whips around, his eyes widening, and their gazes lock.

 

“Holy crap to  _you_ ,” Lance says breathlessly. “Dude, what’re you doing? Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping? Keith, you just got out of the healing pod —”

 

Keith takes a hesitant step forward. Then another. “I’m fine. The healing pod did its job hours ago and — forget me,  _what the hell was that?”_

 

Lance tilts his head at Keith, his rifle bayard sheathed and one hand coming up to run through the damp strands of his hair. “What was  _what_?”

 

“All of …  _this.”_ Keith gestures helplessly to the now empty training deck. “Since when do you use my battle sims?”

 

“Since, uh, you started designing them?” Lance replies, sounding wary. “Um, was I not supposed to?”

 

“No, but, I made them … They’re meant to be hard, nearly impossible —”

 

“Ah, so you’re offended I actually managed to finish it?” Lance grins. Keith half expects a fight to come out of this, but instead Lance says, without any bite to his tone, “Maybe I’m not a super ninja awesome badass with a blade, but I can hold my own. I’m sure I’m not nearly as —”

 

“You just beat my time by four minutes,” Keith blurts out.

 

Lance stops mid-sentence and stares.

 

Keith ventures to take another couple of steps. He’s close enough to see how truly drenched with perspiration Lance is — to see the sweat dripping down from his temple, along the side of his face and then his neck … Which is not at all worth noting or  _whatever his brain was doing right now, damn it, stop._

 

“Wow, seriously? You’re serious right now?” When Keith nods, Lance puffs out his chest and fist pumps. “Hell yes! You know what? I stand corrected, I  _am_  a super ninja awesome badass _with a rifle_ , and I will take you down any day, any time, Red, you just —”

 

“How often have you been practising?” Keith asks, genuinely curious and also more than a little desperate to stop the boasting which was  _actually attractive, what the actual hell_. “Because you did not just get that good today.”

 

“Huh, like, three or four times a week? More when we’re not on mission, or when you’re not in one of your  _moods_ that means pretty much  _no one_ can get in here until you’ve worked out whatever crawled up —”

 

“So whenever I’m not training, you are,” Keith surmises, and somehow this bothers him. Maybe because instead of spending hours in here on his own, with only his demons for company, he could have been spending hours in here with the loudmouth Blue Paladin — that this seems the better option terrifies him, so he shoves down the thought, buries it in the furthest, dustiest, least visited corner of his mind.

 

“I’m not that obsessed,” Lance continues, wiping at his face with his now armour-less hands. “I actually have other stuff to do — pester Pidge, play Jetpack Frozen Tag with Hunk, swap ridiculous weather stories with Coran — he’s so fascinated by tornados. Apparently, they were never a thing on Altea, which means they never would have had classics like _Twister_ or _Sharknado,_ and that’s a crying shame, let me tell you…”

 

“Lance,” Keith starts, then stops. He stares rather helplessly at the Blue Paladin, who has begun taking off pieces of the armour, making relieved noises as he does so.

 

“Yeah?” Lance is holding his gloves, vambraces, and his chest plate, which is probably the worse part, because the flightsuit underneath is … “Keith, buddy, you’re being weird. Well, weird _er._ What’s up?”

 

“I was coming in here to train and you —”

 

“Uh-uh, no way, you are  _not_ training after you  _almost died, did die, you stopped breathing, jackass — only yesterday_!” That Lance has the energy to be pissed at Keith is actually almost as impressive as everything else he did a few minutes ago. “I’m not working my butt off here for you to—”

 

And he abruptly snaps his mouth shut, his blue eyes impossibly wide.

 

Keith suddenly feels like he might have the upper hand, and he seizes the opportunity like a drowning man snagging a life preserver.

 

“You haven’t been practising for me to … what, Lance?”

 

Lance doesn’t reply — he’s walking past Keith, making to leave the room, but Keith grabs his arm before he’s too far out of reach.

 

This immediately feels like an extremely bad idea, (even with the flightsuit acting as a barrier, the warmth of the taller boy’s skin radiates into Keith’s palm, and  _holy crap,_ since when did Lance have such  _firm biceps_?), but it’s too late now — the Blue Paladin turns back to look at him, and, for once, Keith can’t read his expression.

 

Lance doesn’t attempt to break Keith’s grip. Instead, he sighs and says, “Forget it, man, it’s fine, I’m just … frustrated because we had a close call —”

 

“You mean since  _I_ had a close call?” Keith is pretty sure he’s hitting the nail on the head — Lance flinches, though his face remains inscrutable. Keith’s hand slides down to loosely grasp Lance’s wrist, to hold him in place as he finally gives in and explains.

 

“Fine, yeah, because  _you_ got stabbed in the back, because  _I_ wasn’t fast enough. I can’t afford to be that slow, and not just for you, but for Hunk and Pidge and Shiro … I can’t let you guys down.”

 

This is something Keith understands. This is largely the reason why Keith spends hours in this very room, working until his muscles beg for mercy; he has to do better, he has to ensure that he’s prepared for any eventuality.

 

In this, he and Lance are alike.

 

“It wasn’t your fault,” Keith says quietly, and he knows it won’t help, but it needs to be said. “Bad stuff happens in battle, we can’t be everywhere at once —”

 

“But I  _was there_ , Keith. I was there, and I raised my rifle, but too late, and I just, I can’t do that again.” Lance swallows and then tries for a smile. “Besides, so worth it just to kick your ass in this. Four whole minutes, huh?”

 

“Actually more like three and a half,” Keith corrects him, though he smiles back easily. “But fair enough. In this, you _did_ actually kick my ass.”

 

Lance gapes at him. “You know, I don’t think I’m ever going to get used to this new, nicer Keith. Did getting in touch with your Galra heritage provide you with some Zen? What’s the deal?”

 

“First off, I’ve always been nice, you’re just a jackass that likes to push my buttons,” Keith argues, and somehow he’s still smiling at Lance … and still holding his wrist. “And secondly, there’s no deal — we’re part of the same team, I can’t actually hate you. It’s bad for morale or something. Bad for forming Voltron, at least.”

 

“Ah hah!” Lance actually drops the pieces of his armour to point. Keith can’t help but notice that the Blue Paladin could have used the hand Keith was currently grasping by the wrist. “We could form Voltron  _before_  you started being nice to me, so that means you liked me  _then_ too!”

 

“Um, yes? _You_  decided to make me your rival, I had  _nothing_ to do with that!” Keith is somehow in Lance’s personal space — when the hell had that happened? Also,  _he should really let go of his wrist now._ “I couldn’t hate you — I didn’t even remember you.”

 

Lance rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you did, just not right then while we were rescuing Shiro. And it’s not like you didn’t take the chance to try and beat me every single time since, bud. Maybe I was the one that kicked off the rivalry, but you sure as hell took it and ran with it — made a race out of it, even.”

 

The Blue Paladin had shuffled forward a few steps. Keith blinks, staring straight into blue eyes that are far closer than they had been a few seconds ago. He feels sweat forming along his cooled skin again. Especially on the hand that … is sliding down Lance’s wrist and  _oh no, is he trying to hold his hand now?! Abort. End mission. Failsafe, emergency exit, push the eject button …_

 

Lance’s fingers shake slightly as they wrap around Keith’s.

 

Quite suddenly, they are both silent, awkwardly so, but neither one is stepping away. Neither one is letting go of the other’s hand.

 

When Keith can’t bear the silence any longer, he opens his mouth to say something (he has no idea what), but Lance beats him to it — in spades.

 

“Keith, if you’re going to hold my hand, I gotta tell you that I’m the kind of person who takes that kind of thing as a signal. And that _you’re_  doing the signalling is sort of weird, since you’re _you,_ but if you _are_  giving me a sign, lemme say that you are actually one of the coolest people I know, and if I could, like, earn the honour of holding your hand on a daily basis that would be pretty freaking fantastic, and I’m sorry I only realized this after you nearly died, but damn it, I’m sort of head over heels for your emo mullet.”

 

Lance sounds out of breath by the end of that tirade, more so than he did after running one of the hardest battle simulations Keith had created.

 

And, much like with a battle sim, Keith follows his instincts on what to do next.

 

Keith lets go of Lance’s hand, but only so he can wrap his arms around the Blue Paladin’s waist, reeling him in until there is no space between them. 

 

Lance’s anxious expression begins to shift — confused wariness takes its place, and then he seems to soften into pleased surprise. His arms come up hesitatingly, embracing Keith lightly in return.

 

Keith knows the other boy is going to say something soon, so Keith speaks quickly, “Is this sign clear enough for you? And if it’s not, can I do something else to make it … clearer?”

 

This has gone from zero to light-speed. Keith has no freaking clue what he’s doing, only that he’s tired of fighting himself, and if his impulses are leading him down this road, then he might as well as follow — those same instincts have saved his skin in battle time and time again, so why ignore them?

 

“What are you …” Lance’s voice cracks. He looks horrified by this for a split second, but he pushes on regardless. “What kind of thing could makes this any more obvious? You’re into me. Oh wow, I just said that out loud, and it doesn’t sound real. Keith, seriously, for how long —”

 

“Literally for the amount of time it took you to beat my time in this sim, plus you stripping off your top armour, and, uh, maybe this is the wrong thing to say?” Keith recalls Lance’s burst of sincerity, the way he spoke about Keith with admiration colouring every word. “I swear it’s not just your looks —”

 

“Are you worrying about objectifying me?” Lance laughs. “Dude,  _be as into my looks as you want._ Me being all badass and stuff — that works for you? Good, since when you pull off a crazy stunt in your Lion, or on the ground, I kinda want to make out with you _immediately_ after.”

 

“Since when?” Keith demands. How long has Lance wanted to kiss him? Why didn’t he say so sooner? Actually, forget that second point — if Lance hadn’t said anything about Keith’s odd, sudden hand holding, Keith probably would have pretended nothing was happening and gone on with business as usual.

 

“Uh, I’m not going to disclose that information. But I did just tell you that I didn’t realize I wanted more than making out until … yesterday.”

 

Lance’s face falls a little, and Keith feels the slice of the blade into his back again. He vaguely remembers the screams of his fellow Paladins, and he tries to pick out Lance’s in particular — a desperate, rasping cry.

 

But no, not now, it doesn’t matter — he’s healed, and he’s here, in Lance’s arms, and this is a pretty amazing turn of events even if they happened faster than he can comprehend.

 

He grins a bit, trying for a lighter tone to bring the smile back to Lance’s face. “Your exact words were ‘head over heels’ and doesn’t that … That means you —”

 

“Hey, remember when you said you wanted to make things clearer for me?” Lance asks, sounding bright again, and somehow he manages to press in even closer — if there had been an infinitesimal amount of air between their bodies, it’s gone now. Their noses are brushing when Lance murmurs, “Wanna maybe do that now?”

 

There’s a note of challenge in Lance’s tone, and if there’s one thing Keith has never been able to resist in Lance, it’s the way he  _challenges_ Keith.

 

And so he smiles sharply, which Lance probably can’t see since his eyes are directly in front of his, and nods. “Stop me if this isn’t what you mean.”

 

“Oh, I’m pretty sure it’s —”

 

Keith presses his lips to that loudmouth. 

 

His eyes fall shut after Lance’s lids flutter closed. The way Lance breathes out slightly through his nose, and then tilts his head so he can kiss more thoroughly — that breaks something in Keith. Specifically, the something that would have kept him silent about his newly discovered feelings. Keith’s arms tighten around Lance, and he decides to put his very limited kissing skills to the test as he parts his lips.

 

Lance makes a shocked little noise that Keith feels the vibration of, and then things get hazy.

 

All Keith knows is that, somehow, Lance is against a wall now, his still-armoured legs are wrapped around Keith’s waist, and Keith is gripping his thighs to hold him up, and  _was this actually happening right now? What was his life even like before this?_ He hadn’t even known _this_ was a possibility until _two minutes ago._

 

Their mouths have barely parted except to gasp and immediately go back for more. Even though he’d banished the morbid thoughts from his brain (actually, most kinds of thinking were gone, away, on vacation, maybe never to return), he does have a fleeting impression of  _gratitude_ for not dying yesterday. Imagine never getting to have this thing that he hadn’t even known he’d wanted?

 

“Hm, Keith?” Lance breathes out when Keith has pulled away to inhale more deeply. “This is awesome, but, wow, uh, I’m sort of having trouble with reality right now. Could you just … say what you’re thinking so I know you’re not some bizarre fever dream brought on by hardcore training?”

 

“Can we train together next time?” Keith says instantly. “Running a few programs with you would be … cool. And we should totally come up with some simulations together — we’d be unstoppable, with your sharpshooting skills, and then my —”

 

Lance dives in for another kiss — it’s almost ferocious, sucking the air from Keith’s lungs. When he retreats, Keith is left gaping, and Lance is grinning widely. “Yeah, that’s you all right. Wow, man, your soldier brain is just never allowed to take a break, huh?”

 

“I wasn’t thinking anything until you asked me to talk,” Keith complains somewhat petulantly. “And why are we talking again?”

 

“You’re so right, except, no, wait —” Lance lets Keith interrupt him, but he ends the next round of kissing far too quickly, yanking his face back, nearly smashing his head into the wall. “Keith, I am so gross right now. My pores are screaming for relief, so let’s, ah, go our separate ways for cleaning purposes, and reconvene in the kitchen? Food would be good.”

 

“Right, you’re right,” Keith agrees hoarsely. He eases Lance’s legs back down to the floor.

 

They stare at each other for untold moments.

 

It’s Lance who breaks the stalemate, reaching over to tug gently on the collar of Keith’s red jacket. “Let’s say dinner in an hour. First date?”

 

He sounds and looks a touch anxious again, but his eyes are bright, his lips are painfully red, and he waggles his eyebrows with no shame whatsoever.

 

Keith walks over to where Lance had dropped his gloves, vambraces, and chest plate. When he hands them back to the Blue Paladin, who had been rocking back on his heels nervously, he says, “Okay. Sounds good.”

 

Lance’s relieved smile is making Keith feel more things. He lets that happen and it’s so easy, so ridiculously  _nice,_ that he sort of hates himself for being such a repressed jerk earlier, even if only briefly.

 

“Great, yes, okay, I’m … gonna go now. You, you don’t train. It’s only an hour. Take a shower, get my sweat off you … oh crap, that sounds … Crap. Okay, bye now, see you in the kitchen and please forget the last ten seconds, thanks.” Lance scurries off, but he still manages to get one last word in as he hits the door. He whips around and shoots Keith a confident little smirk.

 

“Remember, you have my permission to be all about my looks on occasion. Such as while you shower?”

 

And he’s gone. Keith doesn't move for a minute. He doesn’t even attempt to reason out what the hell just happened. He doesn’t try to rewind time and pinpoint the exact moment when this all spiralled out of control.

 

Instead, he nods to himself, licking his lips and feeling a smile, soft and happy, form afterwards. As he heads to his room, he considers that maybe this won’t be a total disaster.

 

And even if it is, it may be the best disaster Keith’s ever been a part of.

 

******

_Coda: Six Weeks Later_

******

 

Lance slides into cover, his rifle up, and when Keith slices through two Galra soldiers at once, Lance takes out a third that had been slinking in slowly, trying to get into Keith’s blind spot.

 

But not anymore.

 

Keith doesn’t stop moving, and neither does Lance. Shiro and Pidge are in the hallway adjacent to them, reclaiming this base one section at a time. Hunk is working some engineering magic, keeping all the doors open, and occasionally ejecting the odd Galra troop out an airlock.

 

Lance ducks into another open doorway, and then whips around the corner, firing four shots that hit four more targets. Keith is a whirlwind, and all of Lance’s blasts are kept well away from the Red Paladin. He takes a half second to appreciate how _freaking incredible_ his boyfriend is before resuming fire.

 

“ _Lance, we’ve got sector three on lock — heading your way!_ ” Shiro sounds out of breath.

 

“Great, because, man, it’s getting a little hairy here!”

 

“ _If that was your lame attempt at a pun, we’re leaving you there,”_ Pidge says, clearly running while snarking.

 

Lance laughs even as he fires a handful of times, executing a somersault to get to a doorway further up the hallway, closer to Keith.

 

And then Galra Elites show up, and Lance isn’t laughing anymore.

 

The massive, highly lethal soldiers swing around a corner, just a few metres from Keith’s position. Keith has a small pile of corpses around him, but he’s grappling with another grunt right now. Worse still, those Elites have brutal scythes and huge battle-axes and — _no._

 

Lance grits his teeth and pushes forward, running faster than he’s ever run before.

 

He fires as he goes, and one of the Elites goes down to a headshot, but the others are swiftly charging, weaving between his rifle blasts, and when Lance reaches Keith, he knows he can only do so much, but that doesn’t matter because he’s _here_ , he’s got Keith’s back.

 

Keith spares a worried glance for him. “ _Lance,_ what are you —”

 

The first Elite reaches them, swinging for Keith, ignoring Lance entirely, and, well, that does not go well for that particular Galra.

 

Lance clobbers him in the face with his rifle. As he staggers back, Lance follows, kicks him hard, and fires several times. The other Elites, who were apparently also of the opinion that Keith was the greater threat, now seamlessly divide themselves up, two ganging up on Lance while the other three focus on the Red Paladin.

 

Keith is using his sword like the _super ninja awesome badass with a blade_ that he is, while Lance batters the Elites with his rifle, weaving between their bulk, using his slighter stature to his advantage. He can’t quite get enough distance for a killing shot, but when he gets one in the knee, bringing him down to the floor, he uses the collapsed Galra's body as leverage to jump up onto the other Elite’s back — and fires directly down into his skull.

 

As the body drops to the floor, Lance shoots the injured Galra, ending that fight.

 

He spins around, just in time to see the last Elite about to take a deadly swing at Keith, who is down on the ground, gripping his sword arm, too hurt to lift his blade — and Lance loses his mind.

 

He’s in this Galra's face instead of firing his rifle from a distance, and he’s stabbing him except _how, he has a rifle, what is happening?!_

 

When the Elite goes down, gurgling blood as he hits the ground, Lance stares down at his bayard.

 

It’s now a long, curved blade, its hilt and crossguard also arched — but he promptly forgets all about that because _Keith,_ Keith is — fine. Keith is standing up, staring at him with wide eyes. Shiro, Pidge, and Hunk apparently arrived at some point, and they’re also all gaping at Lance.

 

“Lance, what. How.” Keith stops, clutching his useless arm, and swallows. “ _Holy crap_.”

 

“Not the first time you’ve said that to me. Actually, the first time ended fairly well — good sign?” Lance says, babbling a little.

 

Shiro is smiling broadly. “I think you’ve just unlocked something there, Lance. Trying sheathing it and pulling it out again.”

 

Lance did as he was told, and when he pulled his bayard back out, it was the standard rifle once again.

 

Keith leans in close, breathing heavily from exertion. “Should I be worried that you'll take my position as the super ninja with a blade?”

 

Lance stares at his boyfriend. “Maybe? I was pretty awesome, right? Oh, damn it, Keith, we gotta get you patched up —”

 

“Hey, don’t worry, it’s just a scratch —”

 

“Because you need to get your ass onto the training deck with me _pronto._ We are gonna try every battle sim ever with my new and improved Bayard of Badassery and I am _so going to kick your ass._ ”

 

Pidge sighs. “Oh goody, something else for Lance to hold over us.” But then she smiles and comes in to nudge Lance playfully in the stomach. “That _was_ incredibly cool. I wonder what variables led to the transformation of the bayard? Can I watch you guys train? Maybe there’s a correlation —”

 

“Pidge, I love you, _chica,_ and your science is the best science, but if you watch me and Keith train, you might end up getting more _science_ than you would like — of the _biological_ kind.” Lance gives her a cheesy wink.

 

Keith groans, though Lance can see him trying to hide a smile.

 

Hunk chimes in, “He means that they make out. A lot. I stopped by to watch once to see what all the fuss was about, and they were practically dry—”

 

“Yeah, so mission complete!” Shiro cuts Hunk off, grinning far too widely to be real. “The base is secure, Allura, you can tell the Olkari that they can take over from here.”

 

“ _Excellent work, Paladins!_ ” The princess sounds delighted, and also like she might be holding in some laughter. “ _Now, I think I heard that Keith is injured — let’s get you all back onto the Castle and, Keith, report to the med bay._ ”

 

 _“_ I don’t think I need a healing pod,” Keith insists, taking off his helmet one-handed, shaking out his sweaty hair. Lance pleasantly aches while watching this — Keith needs to start pulling his hair back, or consider cutting it, but … Lance may or may not be attached to that mullet, so until it actually interferes with Keith’s fighting, he’s not going to be the one to suggest anything.

 

“Keith, buddy, you can’t move your arm,” Hunk says kindly, and he comes in to inspect the wound more closely. “Don’t make us get Shiro to guilt you into it.”

 

“And did I not mention epic battle simulations in our near future?” Lance says, trying to goad Keith into taking better care of himself. It was the sort of thing that Lance used to do as his friend, but now as a _boyfriend,_ he could sweeten the pot a little. “Also, Keith?” Lance takes off his helmet and rests it on one hip, tilting his head down to stage whisper in Keith’s ear. “You were so freaking _amazing_ today — like, _off the charts super ninja badass,_ and I can’t _do anything_ about that, even though _I really want to,_ until your arm is better.”

 

Keith is red in the face, and not just because of the recent battle, but also because Lance is shameless, Hunk is moaning in embarrassment, and Pidge is laughing at Shiro’s pained expression.

 

Keith mumbles low enough so that the others can’t hear his reply, “Maybe I can take you with one arm, Lance, did you ever think about that?”

 

“Ah, but, _querido,_ ” Lance counters, also dropping his voice, “how will you hold me up against the wall?”

 

“So, _we are done here,_ ” Shiro announces, and Lance actually blushes a bit — he had thought he’d been quiet enough for them not to listen in on that last part. _Oh well._

“Why are you like this?” Keith complains as they all head back to their Lions. “Actually, better question — why do I put up with you?”

 

Lance grins, keeping a watchful eye on Keith’s bleeding arm while he answers cheerily, “I don’t know, Red, but you made the first move, so let’s be clear on who’s putting up with whom, right?”

 

“Only because you were so damn good at that battle program,” Keith mutters, but Lance is not buying that irritated tone, not when Keith’s lips are twitching upwards. “I was not in my right mind.”

 

“Blown away by my awesomeness and my sexy, sweaty self, yeah, man, I remember.” Lance sighs happily. “But, it’s only fair — I’d been dealing with the same crap from you for _way longer._ ”

 

Keith stops before he boards his Lion, using his good hand to grab Lance’s, pulling him in slightly. When Lance steps in closer, Keith reaches up, gripping Lance’s hair at the back of his head, and yanks him down for a fierce, uncompromising kiss.

 

Lance blanks out on where they are, and who is bleeding, and when Keith pulls away, he follows mindlessly until Keith laughs and says, “Sorry, man, I gotta get to a healing pod _._ Catch you later.”

 

The Red Paladin retreats smugly, and Lance is okay with letting Keith get the last word here — because later, when Keith is all healed up and ready to fight again, Lance has a pretty creative battle program planned. It’s a jungle setting type thing — very hot, so he might just forgo wearing a shirt entirely. Between that and his sudden sword bayard talents? Keith was _so in for it._ Maybe Lance would end up being the one to pin a certain gorgeous Red Paladin to the wall.

 

Keith would probably die of cringe if he knew how many horrible ideas Lance had floating around his noggin, but Keith also willingly signed up for this — even _likes_ Lance for some of his more disastrous tendencies. Lance was not about to disappoint his boyfriend — he lived to make both their lives interesting.

 

He grins happily as he hops into Blue, thinking of all the ways in which two incredibly capable soldiers can get up to mischief, and how they can _celebrate_ their successes once they’ve thoroughly dominated the battlefield like the two badasses they are.

 

******

**Author's Note:**

> This came out of nowhere. And now it’s here. *gestures helplessly* Hopefully it’s enjoyable, and if you wanna come hang out with me on [ Tumblr](http://thisgirlhastales.tumblr.com/), more of this kind of thing might happen?
> 
> Thank you so very much for reading! Comments are lovely, but I appreciate y’all stopping by in any case! :D


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